


sweet like bubblegum

by sparkleeye



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic, Family, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:42:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkleeye/pseuds/sparkleeye
Summary: “papa, it’s taking too long.”“well it’s not my fault the formula’s too thin and you needed three coats, kiddo.”or -- future, domestic au where billy paints his and steve's daughter's nails. shortly after, other fluff ensues.(edit: now with proper betaing done!)





	sweet like bubblegum

**Author's Note:**

> i conjured this up while i was losing my patience with painting my nails the other day, and i couldn’t get it out of my head. thank you to the awfully streaky essie nail polish i’ve had for far too long, for inspiring this! 
> 
> i also rewatched 'storks' earlier and it drove me to add more, so it's a little longer than the drabble i originally intended.

“papa, it’s taking _too_ _long_.”

“well it’s not my fault the formula’s too thin and you needed three coats, kiddo.”

billy was sitting at dining room table fanning his daughter’s wet fingernails with a rolled up magazine. she had absolutely insisted that he buy her this bubblegum pink nail polish at the store the other day, had wanted it so _badly_ because her best friend amanda had the same kind.

having been with steve harrington, master of the puppy-dog pout, for almost twenty years, billy was less sharp edges and more soft curves now than he was before he met steve. even in the early years of their relationship, he’d easily bristled, snapped, stormed off. now he only fronted when he absolutely needed to, only when it came to their daughter and steve. he made _sure_ people were aware he could still throw a pretty damn good punch, despite how white-picket-fence he seemed now with a husband and a five year old.

so _no_ , he couldn’t have said no when charlotte, their daughter, had gently tugged on his fingers and held the little pink bottle up so, so delicately with her big brown eyes and soft pout directed upwards at him. he’d sighed and rolled his eyes, held out an open palm and smiled as she giggled and passed it to him.

steve had put the pink bottle, alongside some polish remover, on the checkout counter and sent billy a look that silently read _are you sure that’s a good idea?_ billy just shrugged and nudged steve’s hip with his own, said _why not?_ with such nonchalance, and now he was kicking himself because steve was right.

charlotte was five years old and still needed constant guidance, so when he looked up from the pasta that was simmering on the stove to find her on the carpet in the living room with the bottle in one hand, brush ready to dribble some of the pink paint onto the rug, he’d nearly jumped over the dining table just to pluck the thing out of hand before it stained the floor.

he didn’t want to get an earful over dinner because there was pink nail polish staining the living room carpet. charlotte was a decently clean kid, always picked up her toys and tried her best not to spill, but she’d already left a few small stains around the house that neither of them could scrub out.

the worst stains probably included the grape juice incident - she’d overfilled a cup of grape juice on the living room carpet when she was three and nearly dumped the whole jug onto the carpet - and the time when she sneezed so hard one morning her knee collided with her nose and she gave herself a horrendous nosebleed.

nail polish was _not_ going to be added to that list.

so he’d taken the nail polish from her hand and quickly closed it without a word, and when he looked down charlotte’s eyes were already getting watery so he easily scooped her up with one arm and told her if she wanted her nails painted, she needed to ask first, and that she wasn’t allowed to paint them anywhere but the bathroom or at a table.

“make them pretty, papa,” she’d said, wiggling her tiny fingers in his face, “please? i want daddy to see them when he gets home.”

and billy, always the sucker, the _softie_ nowadays, set her on a chair at the dining room table and told her to give him _five minutes_ so he could at least get the spaghetti sauce done. she waited patiently, watching him intently while he set the gas burner to low and let the sauce simmer until the pasta was done.

“alright, gimme your hands, char.”

billy situated himself across from her at the table and folded a napkin under her hands before giving the little bottle a gentle shake, then took one of her small hands in his own. billy opened the bottle and with deep-set concentration,  carefully started applying the polish to her small, short fingernails.

it was much too thin, the soft pink too transparent -- he could tell immediately that they’d need a few coats to get the color to actually show up, and she’d get impatient and want to jump up immediately after he was done with the first layer.

“this is gonna take a bit to dry and we’re going to have to do a few coats, can you sit still for me until then?”

and charlotte nodded animatedly. “i have scooby doo,” she beamed, looking towards the television running re-runs of _scooby doo, where are you?_

he got the first coat done quickly and fanned her hands with a nearby magazine, one from some home living series that steve only bought once in a blue moon because he liked their dessert recipes.

billy blew across her fingers, too, drawing a giggle out. he couldn’t help but smile at that, at his little girl with her big brown eyes, freckled button nose and sandy curly hair.

while the second coat was drying, he went to check on dinner, glaring at the petulant pot of pasta that did _not_ want to boil. grumbling and swearing at it a bit, he looked for a lid to _hopefully_ speed up the process because it was five now and steve would be home soon.

billy was just lucky to get off a bit early on fridays, regardless of the fact it usually meant he had to go into work a little earlier. kindergarten was only half as long as a regular school day -- charlotte was in the morning class, so at least steve could drive her to school every morning, as he went in later and worked until the evening every night, monday through friday.

most days she went home with one of the neighbors, up until billy came to pick her up her around four, four thirty. on fridays though, she waited in the after school center until three-thirty so billy could gather her and take her to the park or the grocery store before they went home.

he _liked_ to have dinner done by the time steve got home on fridays, but tonight the fucking pasta was being so stubborn and charlotte had nearly spilled a bottle of nail polish on the carpet... still, at least he had something to occupy himself with in between threatening glares to the stovetop.

by the third coat charlotte was bouncing a bit in her seat, attention on the brush instead of scooby doo and the ape man. even with her occasional fussing and the few looks he had to give her to get her to settle, she still rest her chin on the table and peered up at him under long lashes, then said, “thank you, papa,” quietly.

billy stopped painting her last pinky and looked at his daughter, her little red dimpled cheeks and eager eyes as she stared in awe at her glossy pink fingernails. “you’re welcome, sweetheart,” he replied, feeling his chest grow warm with fondness.

while he was fanning the third coat dry and charlotte was complaining about it taking too long, he heard the front door open and close, followed by the click of the lock and the gentle jangle of steve’s keys falling into the dish by the door.

“i’m home,” steve sing-songed, coming into the den with his work satchel slung over one shoulder. he was dressed in fitted brown slacks, dark dress shoes and a trim white button-down, looking preppy as all hell. his bangs were partially in his face, as they usually fell there around mid-day, and billy whistled as he came into the room. he was still fanning their daughter’s nails and earned an eyebrow wiggle from steve in return.

“ _shoes,_ harrington,” billy quipped, as steve came up behind him. he watched as steve playfully rolled his eyes as he kicked his shoes off, set his bag down on the bar top, then pressed a soft kiss to billy’s forehead.

“love you too, ass munch,” steve whispered into his hair, before turning to charlotte, “hi baby, how was your day?”

“daddy look! look what papa did!” she squealed, jumping up out of her chair to show him, “they’re just like amanda’s but _better._ ”

billy grinned cockily at that, knowing for sure charlotte was going to go to school on monday - if they lasted that long, of course - and was going to wiggle her pretty pink fingernails in every kids’ face and gloat about what a good job her papa did.

steve leaned down to pick her up, careful of her hands just in case they weren’t dry yet, and admired his husband’s handiwork. “he _did_ do a good job, i think papa deserves an award, huh?”

he winked at billy and billy ran his tongue over the seam of lips slowly. that still got steve’s cheeks to heat after all these years.

“ew, don’t _kiss_ ,” charlotte groused, her nose scrunching up at the thought. “give him candy instead! that’s better!”

“don’t worry char, he’ll be getting something sweet later.”

charlotte was luckily too young to read into that and she looked back down at her pristinely painted nails and their bubblegum pink shine.

with charlotte balanced on his hip, steve moseyed into the kitchen after sending billy a not-so-subtle wink and pulled the lid off the now angrily bubbling pot of noodles. he fanned some of the steam away and plucked a noodle out with some tongs, for charlotte to test. he blew on the wiggling thing a few times before letting her pick it up, give it a thorough chew and give a thumbs-up in affirmation.

he set her down and billy told her to set the table, _carefully_ as to not ruin her nails, and she sent both of them a look of absolute petulance, as if she didn’t _know that already._

“you’ve gone _soft_ , babe,” steve teased, pulling plates out while billy set the pasta to drain in the sink, “big bad hawkins high basketball star and monster killer billy hargrove, giving our daughter a manicure? where’s the big tough guy i fell for?”

“oh shut up,” billy mumbled, shaking the colander a bit and smiling unabashedly to himself when he felt a warm hand ghost his lower back. he couldn’t make a really snarky retort with charlotte digging around for silverware in the cutlery drawer just four feet away, and instead settled on leaning back against steve’s chest to give a little nip to steve’s gently stubbled jaw.

the taller man continued his sing-songing teasing. “ _so_ soft, _so_ sweet.”

“ _steven_ , behave yourself.”

“sweet like bubblegum pink nail polish-”

“daddy, oh my gosh, you’re being _annoying_ and i’m _hungry_ and i need help.”

steve pulled away from billy to scowl at charlotte, who was standing in front of the open refrigerator, reaching up on her tip-toes for some apple juice. steve momentarily stuck his tongue out at the back of her head and billy snorted.

billy went about serving them up while steve poured charlotte some apple juice, then set her back down at the table on a little pile of pillows so she wasn’t at chin level with her plate mat. she daintily sipped out of a plastic snoopy cup with her pinkies raised up whilst waiting, leaning back in her seat and waiting patiently.

“watch out, kiddo,” billy warned, setting her small plate of spaghetti down in front of her. he kissed the top of her head and she mumbled out a quiet thank you, still distracted by her hands as they clasped the cup.

steve settled in next to her and billy passed him a plate, much fuller than their five year old’s, and gave him a gentle kiss to the temple in thanks. billy sidled in next to steve and across from charlotte, leaning on an elbow to watch steve tuck a napkin into the front of charlotte’s t-shirt, knowing even with her impeccable table manners, her clothes stood no chance to anything runny, like ice cream, soup, yoghurt, and _especially_ anything with sauce on it.

they ate quietly for a little while, just the clinking of silverware hitting the plates filling the dining area over the quiet hum of what’s turned into bugs bunny cartoons, playing softly in the living room a few feet away. it was close to sunset, the horizon casting long golden beams of sun in through the big kitchen windows, bathing the kitchen tile in lines of warm light.

once finished, steve let out a satisfied groan and pat his stomach, turned to his husband and beamed at him with a smudge of sauce on his upper lip. “oh my sweet, sweet man, whatever did i do to deserve you?”

“likewise, babe.” billy smirked, rubbing steve’s knee under the table and briefly leaning in to lick the sauce off his upper lip, surprisingly not pulling a disgusted reaction out of their daughter. he then turned to charlotte, surrounded in the golden light shining in from their backyard, who was doing something silly with her hands and fiddling with her fork while eyeing her fingers. “charlotte grace, stop staring at your fingernails and finish your dinner.”

charlotte’s gaze shot up to both of her fathers, their faces amused, and immediately she turned bright red before she stared back down at her plate and sheepishly went about finishing her dinner. billy smiled fondly, honestly proud she was so enamored with the work he’d done. he reached across the table and mussed her soft curls, poking her cheek and pulling a little giggle out of her.

“i love you,” steve whispered lowly in his ear then, as he settled back, “even if you're in complete denial about being a softie.”

billy didn’t roll his eyes that time, just let steve nuzzle into his shoulder and smiled at charlotte, who was struggling to twirl her pasta around her fork. “i blame both _you_ and fatherhood for that, harrington.”

he continued to watch as their daughter let out a very pathetic _daddy, help_ and steve temporarily left his headrest - billy’s shoulder - to carefully twirl the extra long bunch of sauce-drenched spaghetti around her little fork, and gradually shoveled the last of the pasta into charlotte’s open mouth, with her looking much like a baby bird. once finished with her dinner, she carefully brought her empty plate to the countertop by the sink before coming back and crawling up onto steve’s lap.

steve leaned his head back against billy’s collarbone and billy secured an arm around his shoulders, his fingers tracing the soft bouncing curls sticking up on charlotte’s head. her headband was slipping down and all her hair was coming undone. he slipped it off and went about to running her fingers through her hair, much like he did to get her to fall asleep as a baby.

with steve a grounding weight in the crook his shoulder and charlotte already dozing on steve’s lap, billy considered that maybe being sweet and a softie wasn’t all that bad, after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on [tumblr](http://sparkleeye.tumblr.com/post/171749000420/sweet-like-bubblegum) here / [my blog](http://sparkleeye.tumblr.com)


End file.
